


heartbeats running away

by Babydoll Ria (Babydoll_Ria)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Rock Stars, odesta rock star au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:44:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babydoll_Ria/pseuds/Babydoll%20Ria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Finn Odair pulled me up on stage, everything changed and I had a front seat row to the love story of the century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heartbeats running away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabaceanbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/gifts).



> The Odesta Rock Star AU remix.
> 
> Or how I rewrote it into something I’m proud of.
> 
> Thank you to Sabaceanbabe for beta-ing.

If someone told me what would have happened the night I took Prim to the Finn Odair concert, that I would be pulled up on stage, I would have laughed in their face.

Firstly, I hate Finn Odair’s music. It’s all words, no substance. He sings about love and sex and how he can never be with the one he loves, but it’s perfectly A-OK because he can sleep around.

It’s horrible music, but Prim, fifteen year old that she is, adores it. And all of Prim’s classmates were going, so I spent almost three months saving tips to be able to get the tickets to go.

I don’t get a chance to protest, when a very tan hand grips mine, and surprisingly strong hauls me on the platform near our cheap seats.

I blink at the very hot stage lights. It’s blinding, but Finn Odair with sun bleached hair, and sea green eyes smirks at me unaffected.

‘What’s your name, love?’ His voice is a tenor, and it resonates into the microphone he’s holding.

 A different microphone is thrust into my face,.‘Katniss Everdeen.’ There’s feedback, and I wince, but Finn doesn’t break a sweat.

‘Well, Katniss Everdeen, I’m going to need your help,’ he says, turning to the crowd, showing off his toned body which is hidden barely by a leather jacket. ‘Jo isn’t here to kick my ass tonight, so you’re going to have to do.’

The crowd goes wild, because they’ve figured out what song he’s talking about. I do too, only because last year he and Johanna Mason did a duet that I could not escape anywhere.

It was also the song that got them together, according to the tabloids.

The music starts before I can say no, and it’s a throbbing bass line and electric guitars. It’s the obvious influence of Johanna Mason, who is very much punk- rock compared to Finn Odair’s pop/r&b fusion thing.

He opens his mouth and sings, and I am more than surprised. He is singing live, and he does have an amazing voice.

_‘But you decided to be here with me_

_No coincidence_

_It was meant to be_

_Don't be shy_

_Don't let your boy get in_

_So you can tell all your friends_

_You was on the remix like...’_

The drumming picks up, and I know we’re going towards the hook; Finn smiles at me, and I suppose it’s reassuring, but it feels a bit false.

‘ _In the club’_ I join in, harmonizing and Finn’s face is one of total shock. He doesn’t drop the song though, and we harmonize for the rest of the chorus.

‘ _Baby you know I'd be down_

_But we can't have all these people starin' standin' around_

_This right here is only for your eyes to see_

_But you gettin carried away_

_Saying we can_.’

He makes a grand gesture for me to take over. I close my eyes for a bit, and pray I remember the words. I might hate his music, and god I do. But I don’t want to embarrass myself.

_‘The way you touching me_

_Like no other_

_You trying your hardest to make me give in_

_But I'm gonna be down to give you what you want_

_And if you keep it up’_

The rest of the song is a blur. My heart keeps pounding, and I just want to get this done and over with. For some reason the audience is screaming my name as well as Finn’s.

The song ends, and Finn points to me and wolf whistles.

‘Holy fuck,’ he says, and he sounds almost genuine. ‘Holy fuck. Katniss showed me up.’ The crowd overpowers him, and he lets it go, the applause lasting for a long time before he holds up a finger to his mouth and it becomes so quiet, you can hear a pin drop. ‘Well I think I learned my lesson. Never duet with someone better than you. Jo better watch her back. That was awesome.’ He smirks at me, and I try to smile back.

It’s done, and I’m about to hop off stage and try to find Prim in this madness, but instead I am escorted off stage, where there is an old man with white hair and a very expensive suit waiting.

‘Miss Everdeen, you have a very nice voice.’ he says conversationally. ‘My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I have an offer for you.’

* * *

 

Capitol Records is a large building, that is very extravagant and Avant Garde. The tiles are white marble and my trainers make no noise on them.

I’m in my Wal-Mart best, and everyone else is in designer clothes. Their socks could probably feed Prim, my mom and me for a month.

Around the lobby of Capitol Records there are giant oil paintings in gaudy gold frames depicting the acts signed to them.

I’m surprised by the range. There is of course Finn Odair, looking straight at the camera, smirking and seducing it, in only leather pants. Beside him is Johanna Mason, an old school microphone dangling by the cord from her hands, her hair dark and spikey and her high heels resting on an amp. Her red lipstick stained mouth is twisted in an arrogant sneer and she’s glaring at the camera with dark kohl lined eyes. 

Across from them is a girl, well she looks like she’s in her early twenties who I don’t know. She’s dressed in a flowing white dress, like those hipster girls on photos in Tumblr that Prim is always reblogging. Her hair is dark and she’s not exactly facing the camera, merely glancing at it under her fringe.  She’s barefoot, sitting at a piano.

Beside the unknown girl is District 12. I really like District 12, and I didn’t know they are signed to Capitol Record.  The three boys are wearing jeans and vintage t-shirts, and Gale Hawthorne, the lead guitarist is wearing a leather jacket.  Peeta Mellark, the vocalist and bass player is front and center, his blonde hair and Scandinavian looks stand out against the darker looks of both Gale and Thom, the drummer, who has a knit cap with their logo on the rim.

I feel like I made a huge mistake. I signed a recording contract for eight years here.

I have never wanted to be a singer. My father was, but he was a small time musician. He worked the bar and pub circuit for a long time, and he died in a hotel room before a gig. The autopsy report said he had a cocktail of sleeping pills and anti-depressants drowned in whiskey.

My father’s death caused my mother to become bedridden, and I had to drop out of high school at sixteen, because we had destroyed our savings. I’ve been working as a waitress, and a cashier ever since.

President Snow made me a deal, an eight year contract with Capitol Records. I get ten percent royalties and am expected to release four albums in this time period. Capitol Records will front all the direct costs, the publicity, the clothing and all that. 

It works out I make twenty dollars an hour, and I have to be at the studio or doing public appearances or whatever they do seven days a week, with hours to be discussed by my manager and publicist.

Who I’m supposed to meet today.

‘You must be Katniss Everdeen.’ There’s a high pitched trilling voice, and I turn; I instantly want to turn away.

The woman speaking has pink hair in some weird style, and heels that make her tower over me. Her face is caked with makeup, and she looks like a demented doll.

‘It’s such a pleasure to meet you, dear.’ She rolls her r’s. ‘I’m Effie Trinket, and I’m your publicist.’

Oh fuck no.

This seems like a very bad idea and I want to turn around.

‘Oh,’ I say, because there is nothing else I can say. ‘Oh.’

If I turn and run now, I can probably be out the door before she can chase me down in those heels.

‘Follow me, dear.’ She smiles at me, and I can see all her teeth, before she turns on her heel, somehow and walks towards an elevator. ‘Haymitch isn’t here yet. God knows when he’ll come in. He’ll be hungover for sure.’

Effie keeps on talking, and I tune her out. The elevator dings, and I follow her out.

We go down a long hallway, filled with doors and framed records with titles. For a woman balancing on pins, she can walk really fast. I begin to try to keep up, but there’s this haunting melody being played and Effie just seems to ignore it.

It’s when we pass an open door, and I peer in.

There’s the girl from the piano, with her dark sheets of hair that are all wavy, like she’s been in the water and it dried that way. Her pale fingers dance across the keys.

I don’t realize I’ve stopped and wandered into the room, until she looks up and green eyes look lost.  The music stops and I feel embarrassed.

‘You’re the new girl,’ she says, and her voice is quiet. ‘The one who sang with Finnick.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘Katniss. I didn’t know people were talking about me.’

This girl is extremely small and is in a floral dress. She’s watching me over the grand piano. I’m sure petite and slender is the politically correct way to describe her, but all I can think of is an undersized and starving waif.  She has a tragic sort of beauty, full of melancholy and tragedy.

She smiles and it’s shy, but it transforms her from being Ophelia to being Titania.

‘Not a lot of people are,’ she tells me. ‘Johanna isn’t in the country, and the boys don’t really care.’

I nod.

‘Who are you?’

She laughs then, and it’s like thousands of silver bells. ‘Annie Cresta.’

And now I know her name, I do know who she is. She’s a child prodigy. Mom used to play her albums, before Dad died.

Annie Cresta is a genius, but is an eccentric in the music world. She’s won all the awards, and people have claimed she has a voice like a siren, lulling you in.

I don’t know what to say here, and it’s perfectly fine because Annie Cresta doesn’t seem to mind the awkward pause of the conversation.

She instead begins to play a different song, it’s slow and somewhat depressing but there’s a line of hope in it.

I almost start to leave, but then she starts to sing, and it’s so quiet, I think she’s forgotten me.

_‘You've been walking around in tears_

_No answers are there to get_

_You won't ever be the same_

_Someone cries and you're to blame_

_Struggling with a fight inside_

_Sorrow you'll defeat_

_The picture you see it won't disappear_

_Not unpleasant dreams or her voice you hear’_

 

She stops playing and looks at me. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s…’I’m on the spot, I listen to music occasionally. I don’t critique music. I just know what I like. ‘It’s good. Sad. What is it for?’

Luckily, I think she’s happy with my vague answer. Her hands continue playing, but it’s a happier, more upbeat tune.

‘My new album. It should be out later this year.’ Annie tells me, ‘It’s much more…personal this time. I’m not good with lyrics, so I’m very…worried about them.’

‘You’re not?’ I try to remember her songs, because I know I’ve heard them before, and I remember them being really good, and very heartfelt.  ‘Who writes your lyrics then?’

‘I do.’  It’s a deeper voice, and the small smile on Annie’s face is completely gone, and she’s expressionless.

Finn Odair, in a shirt, is leaning against the open door with an unreadable expression on his face. Without the stage make up, and with clothes on, I understand why Prim is obsessed with Finn Odair. He’s strikingly good looking, tall and he has an athletic build. But he also has the air of knowing he’s incredibly handsome, and not hearing no for an answer.

‘Hello Katniss.’ He says, his eyes flick over me once, and I feel like I want his approval for an odd second, before they snap back to Annie. His whole demeanor is different now from the man on stage hip thrusting and seducing all the girls in the audience.  Everything feels much more subdued, and raw, and I think I should leave.

‘Things change,’ Annie says, finally.

Her voice echoes and resonates around the mostly empty room.  I think there’s a look of hurt in Finn’s eyes, but if there is one it’s gone as we watch in slow motion Annie leave her piano and walk barefoot out of the room.

If I could snapshot the moment when Annie passes Finn, I would.  He towers over her, and is staring at her like she’s the sun, and she’s looking straight ahead, not at him at all.

I follow Finn into a conference room. Sheet music is on the table, along with various bits of technology, and coffee mugs.

There’s an older man, his hair thinning and greying, wearing a very old, worn jacket arguing with Gale Hawthorne.

‘I don’t give a fuck Hawthorne, what you want,’ the man spits, gesturing with a coffee mug that smells too much like whiskey, ‘Johanna ain’t gonna sing on the track. Katniss is.’

It’s like my name is a spotlight, and everyone, the rest of District 12, the old man, the old woman sitting quietly in the corner, whom Finnick joined, all stare at me.

‘Hi,’ I say, and I almost wave.

‘No,’ Gale says almost automatically. It feels like I got hit by a cement truck. ‘I want Johanna. I don’t want catnip.’

‘Kat-niss’ I correct.

‘Fuck off,’ he tells me.

‘Excus-’

‘I wrote the lyrics.’ Finn interrupts, and everyone looks at him, and he’s holding a loose-leaf sheet of paper with handwriting and crossed out words. It’s stained with coffee and torn in some places, like someone tried to shred it. ‘I have say on who sings it.’

‘I wrote the music,’  Annie says, appearing at the door, holding a tea cup. ‘And if you think writing the lyrics gives you free range on deciding who gets to sing the song, you are very much mistaken.’

Everyone is silent, and Finn is suddenly standing.  ‘Then let’s talk about it.’

‘No.’ Annie barely looks at him, finding Thom much more interesting. ‘If Johanna does not sing, then you can’t use the music.’

I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t think anyone else does either. There are under currents here, ones that I don’t get and it’s weird.

‘Well shit,’ the man, Haymitch, Finn called him says, breaking the tension, slightly. ‘ What the hell do you two want to do with this?’

‘Nothing.’ Annie says, with a shrug of her shoulders, the loose straps of her dress falling down, revealing very pale skin. ‘We do nothing, and let this song be forgotten.  That’s all we can do, right?’

I think that was a loaded question.

‘No,’ Finnick says strongly, ‘Make them both sing it. Make it a duet.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Haymitch swears, ‘Fine. Make them do the duet. Fuck if I care. Snow wants radio play in two fucking weeks.’

Haymitch seems to hold more power here, and it’s decided. The District 12 boys stay seated at the table, while Finn moves towards the door, to confront Annie, I guess. Not quite sure.

Annie’s gone before he can get to her.

* * *

 

The second day of my eight year contract is the first time I set foot in a recording studio. The walls are barren, and there are rugs on the cement floor and black egg carton things on the wall and the ceiling-it’s for the acoustics I think.

A drum kit is already set up, and Thom is stretching, water bottle in hand.

‘Hey.’ He nods to me.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Nervous?’

‘Yeah.’ You could call it that. You could also call it live snakes in my stomach.  I’ve only sung once, with Finn on stage, that doesn’t equal job security.

‘Don’t be. Annie can write the best music and Finn makes good lyrics.’

‘I didn’t know they composed together.’

Thom nods, offering me water. ‘Yeah, they’ve been doing it for years.  But they had this huge fight a year ago, and they barely talk now. So…they’re kind of both composing separately?’

That doesn’t make sense. How would you know if the music and lyrics match? But I don’t have time to think about it more, because Peeta and Gale have arrived. Gale stomps past me, not even looking at me, while Peeta smiles and exchanges small talk.

‘You ready?’ Peeta asks me as everyone’s finished warming up.

‘Sure.’ I hold a printed paper with the lyrics on it. ‘Let’s do this.’

Peeta is the one who starts the song; I come in after the first chorus.

_‘Just give me a reason_

_Just a little bit's enough_

_Just a second we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again_

_It's in the stars_

_It's been written in the scars on our hearts_

_We're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again’_

Finn’s voice was more seductive; he doesn’t make promises and think about a forever girl. These rather heartbreaking lyrics would fall flat if it were anyone but the earnest vocals of Peeta. He makes you trust him. I don’t understand how he can write something like this, because these are authentic words, there’s something very raw in it, and honestly I did not think Finnick Odair had more depth than a wading pool-he certainly doesn’t act like it.

I almost miss my cue, and I can see by the way I come in a bit too fast, that Gale notices as well.

_‘I'm sorry I don't understand_

_Where all of this is coming from_

_I thought that we were fine_

_Your head is running wild again_

_My dear we still have everythin'_

_And it's all in your mind’_

* * *

 

We go to record the next day, and I’m surprised to see Finn leaning against the back wall, decked out in clothes that make him look like an Abercrombie model and Annie sitting in a chair in the far corner from him, her legs tucked under her dress daintily.

‘What happened to the duet?’ I ask, and Gale looks like I’m stupid for not being up on the office gossip.

‘Jo threw a bitch fit,’ he says shortly. ‘She’s pissed she already has to pretend to be sleeping with Odair. She refuses to get herself to sing one of these songs.’

Jo Mason isn’t dating Finn Odair? Well they must have broken up. The tabloids had a field day with that, last year, when they were seen coming in and out of Finn Odair’s condo in L.A. They were the perfect tabloid bait, Jo Mason with her outspoken opinions and her multiple injunctions with the cops for throwing things at paparazzi- one of them tried to take a picture up her skirt, and District 12’s manager got arrested for breaking the guy’s nose, a few years back-no one was charged though; and Finn Odair who has a love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude, never seen with the same girl for more than a month, and a list of A-List Exes longer than my arm. Prim “shipped” them, she told me they were the perfect match. I didn’t care.

‘One of these songs?’ I repeat he doesn’t elaborate. Gale, tall with dark hair and olive skin is not overly talkative, and instead spends most of his time ignoring me. It’s quite obvious that he wanted Jo to sing, though Snow, and by proxy Haymitch, who directed the message, preferred me.

And we start the most grueling five hour period of my life. It’s a three and a half minute song; it shouldn’t take forever.

Apparently you record in steps- step one is the guitar, step two is the bass, and step three is the drums. Then you combine all three, and then its male vocals, then my vocals. Then our vocals together. And then finally everything together.

We’re going swimmingly, until we come to the vocals together. We aren’t gelling right according to Finn.

‘Where’s the emotion?’ Finn’s had coffee, with a lot of sugar, and he talks with his hands, pointing at lines and words he wants to emphasize.  ‘This is a story, there’s emotions. It’s this guy who is asking the love of his life, his whole reason for everything, to just wait. And she’s refusing.’

‘It sort of feels like she has a good reason to want to leave,’ I say, and he rounds on me. His good-looking face suddenly dark and strikingly dangerous. I don’t think Finn Odair would or could ever hurt someone, he’s a flirt and a womanizer but those don’t necessarily equate violence.

But at that moment, it’s pure anger, fury and hurt on his face, and his voice is cruel and low. ‘And why would that be?’

I don’t have a good answer.

‘A moment for a lifetime isn’t really a fair bargain.’ Annie rescues me, and it seems to piss him off further; his expression darkening more and more with every word. ‘If the girl has to sit back and watch the love of her life gallivanting around for his career and is told it will be just a bit longer, and then have him promise a moment…well, I’d leave.’

I think it’s telling that Thom and Gale are subtly trying to get out of the room, and because they were lounging on the couch they could.  Thom gives Peeta and me a sympathetic look, while Gale doesn’t let the back of the studio door hit his dark jeaned ass. I am stuck with Peeta in the vocals booth, and if Annie is the sun, than Finn is a solar eclipse, because he’s invading her personal space, and she’s both so aware and ignorant of his presence at the same time.

‘But besides the emotion, you need to harmonize more.’ Annie says, looking at Peeta and me, with her uncanny green eyes. ‘There’s a relationship falling apart here. It would be nice to hear your tones properly.’

‘The relationship is being saved,’ Finn insists.

The look she gives is the first time I’ve seen her look him in the eyes.  ‘You can’t save something that’s already broken.’

It’s cold suddenly, and I feel sick.

‘Why don’t you show us?’ Peeta suggests.  ‘How you would do it.’

‘Fine.’ Finn marches into the studio and, taking an acoustic guitar off the wall, he turns, tuning the guitar by ear to look at Annie, daring her to join him. ‘You coming?’

There’s hesitation, but her bare feet don’t make a sound as she joins him, pushing the piano closer to the carpet.

Finn starts to play, and it’s softer, more basic than the rock ballad we’ve been recording. I didn’t know he could play, there’s nothing in any of his videos or concerts that show he can play. I know he can dance, he did a strip tease at the concert and I kept on trying to cover Prim’s eyes, and she kept on swatting me, insisting at fifteen she’s seen worse online.

_‘Right from the start_

_You were a thief_

_You stole my heart_

_And I your willing victim_

_I let you see the parts of me_

_That weren't all that pretty_

_And with every touch you fixed them’_

His voice is different, it’s softer, deeper, and there’s nothing dripping sex or a good time. It’s heartfelt and private and I feel like I’m reading his diary.

_‘Just give me a reason_

_Just a little bit's enough_

_Just a second we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again’_

When the piano starts, it’s slow and haunting, it’s like the piano’s given up.

‘ _But when I need you_

_You're almost here_

_And I know that's_

_Not enough_

_But when I'm with you_

_I'm close to tears_

_'Cause you're only almost here’_

I am ninety-nine percent sure those aren’t the lyrics, and the way the guitar stumbles a bit confirms it to me.

‘Shit,’ Peeta cusses under his breath, and I think if there is ever a cue to leave, this would be it. ‘We should leave.’

‘Stay.’ Annie’s voice is barely a whisper, but in this sound proof room it resonates and echoes back. ‘I’ll go. It doesn’t matter what the words are anyway.’

I have never seen a grown man cry, but the look on Finn Odair’s face is one that is almost beyond description.  Annie doesn’t look back as she walks out of the studio. And Finn looks like the world stopped spinning and everything good in the world died.

‘Fuck,’ Peeta says, and I feel like whatever happened here could easily be summed up by that word.

* * *

 

In the three months since, the duet never went to air and I’ve seen Finn Odair twice. He’s left L.A. to go home, according to Effie, taking some time to work on his new album that Snow wants out for Christmas. Effie told me that Finn rarely writes in L.A., only his own songs he writes in his condo. I’ve founded out by the emails I’ve gotten that Finn Odair is responsible for ninety-nine percent of all the lyrics for everyone at Capitol Records.

But I’ve seen Annie Cresta on almost every newspaper.

She’s always been known, always been a critical genius, but now, at twenty-five, about ten years after her debut, she has hit the mainstream.

She is the haunting vocals of a Disney film, where the princess is impassive, stuck in a trap of her own making, trying to protect her family, with an anti-hero prince.

She is also dating Gloss Roberts, the Oscar winning actor. His twin sister, Cashmere, who was a Victoria’s Secret model, had dated Finn Odair a few years back, and according to _Vanity Fair_ they had been friends since then.

_‘It feels like I can breathe,’  Annie Cresta says, smiling into her chai tea latte, ‘I’ve spent so many years waiting…I guess, trading water. It gets so tiring, and I suppose two years ago I thought to think seriously about my future. Would I always want to be someone content on being in the background, on the back burner? It took me a long time, and it was very…hard, very emotional. But it’s worth it, for the first time in eight years, I feel like I’m moving forward.’_

I never did get a chance to finish the story, because it was the one time that Finn came into the office for a meeting, looking a bit worse for wear, and saw Annie  on the cover in this really pretty dress, flowing and sexy with no back, showcasing this tattoo on her back that I didn’t know she had, an outline of Louisiana with an anchor and coordinates in the center of her lower back, he took it and set it on fire.

No one has told me what’s going on, but I don’t think it’s good.

* * *

 

It’s at another meeting, trying to find out what albums are out for the summer, music video schedules and tour dates where Finn isn’t present, but Annie is, still shoeless, and so is District 12. Haymitch is arguing with Effie and Mags, Annie’s manager, over the possibility of a new collaboration, when the door is kicked opened by a combat boot, and there’s a cigarette dangling from the bright red nails of Jo Mason, and her ruby lipstick stained lips smirk.

‘Sup bitches.’ Jo says, before sauntering to Haymitch and kissing him thoroughly.

I choke on my water.

I’m the only one who’s uncomfortable in this situation.  Mags even yawns.

Jo Mason has a huge presence just in music videos, and an obvious presence at the studio, despite touring Europe for the past five months. Peeta, when she comes up in conversations, jokes about it, Thom is neutral while Gale just scowls deeper.  I’ve never asked Finn about her, because he is never here; and Annie is flitting in and out, filming music videos and interviews, getting ready for her sixth album to drop May 19th.

‘How was Europe?’ Annie asks dryly when the two break apart and Jo moves into a wheeling office chair beside Annie, like it never happened, her combat boots look weird on the conference table. Gale goes to get more coffee, and Haymitch and Mags argue about Annie appearing on the new District 12 album. Apparently Peeta is trying to write all the lyrics himself, and he wants to do a duet. Annie isn’t really interested, because of scheduling.

‘Boring.’ Jo shrugs. ‘I got you some Chanel. But you had more fun here it looks like. You and Gloss huh?’

Annie doesn’t even blush. ‘I’m allowed to have fun.’

‘Right.’ Jo says, ‘Fun. That’s what you’re doing. Never took you for the PDA type.’

I’m trying to listen in while doodling birds in the margin of the notebook; three months in and I have basically sat in meetings, and had Peeta teach me the scales, telling me apologetically that Annie or Jo would be better, because they are female vocalists.

These eight years will go very slowly.

‘Take the new girl,’ Jo says, and I blink.

‘Me?’                                                                    

‘No fucking way,’ Gale spits. ‘Last time was a disaster.’

I cringe, because it’s true. Finn ran away from the studio.

‘That wasn’t her fault,’ Peeta interjects, and I look at him. He’s frowning at Gale, and there’s a very stark contrast between them. I really don’t understand why they’re in the same band, because it seems like they are constantly butting heads.

‘I don’t want her to sing.’

‘She’s been here for three months, and all she’s done is sit in meetings!’

‘That true new girl?’ Jo asks; her bright red lips smirk at me, and I instantly feel small and stupid. ‘You haven’t  recorded anything?’

‘No.’ I admit. ‘But I’ve got eight years and-‘

‘Eight years?’ Jo interrupts. ‘Well fuck.’

I’m confused, isn’t that the average length of all their contracts? But before I can ask, Mags, an elderly woman who apparently was one of the top singers back in the forties for Capitol Records, talks.

‘Snow hasn’t decided what he wants to do with her yet.’ It’s slurred, she had a stroke last year, but it’s understandable if you focus, and everyone nods in understanding.

‘If she’s bored of meetings,’ Annie speaks up, ‘then Katniss is more than welcome to the shoot tomorrow. ‘ She turns to Jo, as if asking permission.

Jo waves, ‘If Brainless wants to see what we do, knock yourself out.’

I really don’t like this nickname, but when I try to tell Jo, she’s already left the room, and Haymitch travels after her.

* * *

 

It’s a hole in the wall, in the worst area of LA. The pool table is ripped and there’s beer stains on the carpet. I, in jeans I got from the thrift store and an old faded t-shirt fit right in; no one else does.

 ‘What’s going on?’ I ask. I don’t see Jo or Annie and I wonder if this is a horrible joke, like they do on newcomers to sports teams, or first years in college.  No one answers me, so I stand awkwardly near a hot light, while a crew unravel cords and wires.

They come in with Jo complaining loudly and Annie looking mildly unimpressed at whatever Jo is saying. The stark difference between them is obvious, and Annie is wearing shoes for the first time since I’ve met her.

‘Brainless,’ Jo says in greeting, when I approach them, while Annie smiles. ‘You came.’

‘Yeah. This is…different,’ I say, trying to figure out why they would step foot in this place, or why Annie would. I feel like Jo loves dive bars like this, but Annie’s pretty dresses look very out of place.

‘They have a great open mike night,’ Annie tells me, ‘It’s where we try out a lot of songs.’

‘We?’

Annie smiles and doesn’t answer, but it feels like the light reflecting in her eyes shows a bit of sadness. I don’t get a chance to comment on it, because Jo is looking at me like if I say something, I’m dead.

‘Not anymore though,’ Annie continues softly. ‘I guess…I guess that’s gone too.’

‘So what?’ Jo says briskly, and I think it’s supposed to be supportive, but I’m not sure if it is. ‘This is what you wanted right?’

‘Yeah, it is. It just takes time.’

Jo snorts, and the two of them walk towards the bar; I trail after them, trying not to get in the way.  ‘And you think the best way to do that is to fuck his best friend?’

I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, because Brutus, the director, stops me from getting into the shot.  I feel left out and I shouldn’t, because I was invited casually, and I am new. It just feels like in high school, when I was invited to hang out with Delly and Madge and I felt like I was there out of pity, not because they actually wanted me.

I watch, as the cameras begin rolling, and they order drinks-Jo gets a beer, while Annie chooses wine- and they haven’t even sung a note. I’m waiting for a backing track, anything to indicate  that they start, when Annie opens her mouth.

_‘Regrets collect like old friends_

_Here to relive your darkest moments_

_I can see no way, I can see no way_

_And all of the ghouls come out to play’_

Her voice is crystal clear, and I can understand how she’s won so many awards. It’s heartbreaking.

There’s a pause, and I realize that they are singing the entire song a cappella; and like Finn Odair, who surprised me at concert by singing live and sounding exactly like the record, so does Jo Mason.  Her voice has a deeper tone and a huskier edge than Annie’s soprano, but the raw power is amazing.

_‘And every demon wants his pound of flesh_

_But I like to keep some things to myself_

_I like to keep my issues drawn_

_It's always darkest before the dawn’_

* * *

 

 _Shake It Out_ becomes a top ten hit. It’s a purely a cappella song, and the video of them singing over drinks about shaking off a bad relationship gets air play everywhere. It’s the new single off Annie’s new album.

I find this all out when I’m listening to District 12 and Jo record the song, and I have nothing better to do but watch six hour sessions.

‘Hey, Brainless,’ Jo calls tightening the lid to a water bottle. ‘You got plans for tomorrow?’

‘No.’ I shake my head; I might watch Annie play the piano for a few hours, and proof read Peeta’s lyrics. But really nothing solid. I am very bored, but Effie tells me that come August my single, whatever it is, will be out. President Snow is just trying to figure out which direction he wants me to go.

‘Awesome. We’re going to Louisiana tomorrow. Meet me here at six.’

‘Why?’ I ask, as Jo goes back into the booth. It’s Gale who answers me.

‘Odair needs to get his shit together.’

* * *

 

Jo is waiting for me in a car with Haymitch, the manager of District 12, at the wheel, with a cup of coffee for her and a hot chocolate for me.

‘You’re late,’ she tells me.

‘No,’ I protest, checking my watch. It’s a quarter to six in the morning. ‘I’m early.’

‘Woof leaked our flight to leave at eight,’ Jo tells me, ‘If we want to get out of LAX without a horde of people we need to go now. Come on, Brainless, think.’

I don’t argue as I slide into the back seat of the car. ‘My name is Katniss.’

Jo snorts.’ No you’re fucking Brainless. Who the fuck signs an eight year contract? You’re almost as bad as Finn.’

‘You don’t?’

‘God no. I’ve signed a three year one. Annie’s in fucking albums, smart girl. She’s almost done. Finn was a fucking idiot. He signed a ten year contract.’

‘It’s done, though,’ Haymitch says, heading onto the freeway.  ‘He’s doing album to album.’

‘He finally wised up.’

‘That’s debateable.’

I’m silent as Jo and Haymitch talk among themselves. 

Capitol Records is a place of mystery to me. It’s very clear that Jo and Haymitch are together, and it’s also clear that Peeta, Gale and Thom aren’t the best friend garage band that they say they are. I don’t know if anyone is what they say at Capitol Records.

‘Call me when you land.’ Haymitch murmurs, as I slam the trunk  shut. I turn discreetly as they kiss, and Jo whacks the back of my head to tell me we have to board our flight.

Jo saunters through LAX like she owns it, and she was right coming early lessened people taking our photographs, though some people still do. She ignores them, though one who fell over a luggage carousal gets a sarcastic clap, and a finger when they try to get a quote.

On the flight, she sleeps. I stare out the window.

* * *

 

 I’ve never been to Louisiana, so I didn’t know what to expect, but I have learnt that air ports are virtually identical everywhere. Jo grabs a cab and directs us to a car rental, where she picks up the first car and we begin to drive.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask, as we stop for coffee.

‘To Finn and Annie-‘Jo stops herself, before starting again. ‘To just Finn’s, I guess.’

‘He lives in Louisiana?’ I wouldn’t have guessed that, L.A. suits him.

‘He’s from there. Both of them. Annie hates L.A., so she’s only there when she has to be.’

‘Like now?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’ There’s finality in her voice, so I don’t ask any more questions for the forty minute drive from New Orleans to Mandeville.

* * *

 

The house that Finn and Annie owned is large, a pale green, like egg shells and with a lot of windows and a white roof. Jo slams the car door, and walks up the cement walkway. It’s a really pretty house, very light and airy, and I would not have pictured this as something Finn Odair would live in. He seems to prefer chrome and modern, not simple and country.

The door’s unlocked, which is weird even to Jo.

 ‘Fuck,’  Jo mutters, and I follow her through the house, taking off my runners at the door so I don’t track dirt all over the white marble tile floor.

It looks like half a home; there are framed photos of Finn and Annie, but there are patches of faded walls where framed things hung before. Jo doesn’t say anything, but she weaves her way through the house and I follow her.

We find Finn in a large room, where there are guitars hanging on the wall, several amps and a few bar stools. It’s an open room, with double French doors, a view of the lake behind it and their own private dock, and it looks like that the room is missing something.

This whole house is missing something; it was obviously meant for two, but it’s very clear that only one person lives here now.

‘She’s really gone,’ Jo says, and Finn doesn’t look up. It’s weird; I don’t know him, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in jeans that he probably bought at the mall, and a plaid shirt that’s old and worn in. He’s got a beard, or at least scruff.

He looks like a real person.

I don’t think I’m supposed to be here, it doesn’t feel right. Finn is obviously hurt, and angry and I am a stranger. Jo might be his friend, but I’m not. I’m the girl who witness him and his ex-girlfriend that no one knew about have a fight in the recording studio.

‘Why would she leave?’ Finn says, acknowledging us but never looking up from where he sits, holding one of the guitars like it’s a life raft. ‘We were…we were good.’

I don’t know what to say; I didn’t even know they were in a relationship.  But they must have been, there are pictures on the walls of them that span years. It doesn’t suit him, Finn Odair isn’t a relationship guy, he sleeps around. I stand awkwardly at the doorway, while Jo walks in, stepping over sheets of paper with messy scribbles on them. 

Paper litters the room, some of it balled up in frustration.  They’re all lyrics, and it’s a bunch of half finished songs.

Jo shrugs. ‘It’s not like this was new, Finn. You guys were having problems.’

‘Yeah but it’s not giving up problems!’ Finn argues, ‘We’re not like _them_. We’re different. We’re forever.’

Jo doesn’t say anything, she stands there letting Finn rant about how he and Annie are different.

‘She wasn’t happy,’ Jo says finally. ‘You can’t expect her to stay if she’s not happy.’

‘But we were,’ Finn insists. ‘Seven years of good times can’t just go away like that.’

Jo sighs. ‘Snow just wants you back for Monday.’

We leave then.

* * *

 

We’re in a diner in New Orleans, waiting for our flight back to L.A. when Jo explains the history of Annie and Finnick in bits and pieces. Some of it, I already know; Finn Odair was scouted when he was fourteen, was supposed to be in a boy band, but Snow saw more potential for him as a solo artist, and when he was sixteen, it was like Finn couldn’t keep it in his pants. At eighteen, from Varnado, Louisiana, Annie Cresta took the world by storm, though she had already been making waves as a classical pianist. Snow signed her then.

‘I came the year after so I don’t really know how they started dating,’ Jo says stabbing her syrup drenched waffle. ‘But they kept it on the down low. The only people who know are the ones in the company.’

‘Why?’

Jo’s silent for a long minute, before she stabs the waffle with particular violence. ‘Cause Snow owns us. We’ve got an image to sell, and we have to sell it good.’

Jo doesn’t tell me much, but she tells me that Finn sung country before Snow. That he was-still is- a small town boy from Jackson, Louisiana.  But R&B sells better than honky tonk, and so Finnick became an R&B singer, and the thing about those is that they can’t be helplessly devoted to a girl back home, who doesn’t fit the popular artist mode.

‘Jo?’ I ask, looking at my coffee, afraid of the answer. ‘What’s my image?’

Jo laughs. ‘That’s the thing, Brainless, Snow’s trying to figure out how to sell you.’

‘Will it be like you?’

‘Nah, Brainless,’ Jo tells me, ‘He’s already got an angry bitch. He’s probably going to go the teeny bopper route for you.’

‘The what?’

‘You know,’ Jo motions to some thirteen year old girls in the booth in front of us, trying to subtly take photos. ‘My boyfriend won’t call me back, so I’m going to sit and cry.’

I’m a bit horrified at that.

* * *

 

Monday, when I come into the studio, Finn Odair is waiting in my little room, clean shaven and looking more like the guy from his picture in the lobby than the man I saw on Tuesday.

‘Morning,’  Finn says. ‘Ready to work?’

‘Yeah.’ I say, blinking before sliding across from him.

‘How old are you?’  Finn asks, pushing a print out of lyrics at me.

‘Nineteen?’

I glance at the song, which is entitled Twenty Two.

‘I don’t think it matters,’ he says easily. ‘So, this is what Snow wants as your debut. He’s pushing for your album out end of August, early September, so we’ve got a lot of songs to go over.’

‘What’s a hipster?’ I interrupt, reading the lyrics. ‘ Why do I want to dress up as one?’

Finn gives me a blank look. ‘You don’t. It’s lyrics, you don’t have to mean them.’

‘Then why do I have to sing this?’ I ask.

‘Because Snow told you to.’

‘But I don’t want to make fun of my exes, or what the hell does” happy free confused in all the best ways” mean?’ I get distracted reading more.

‘You have to.’ Finn tells me, and he smiles a bit humourlessly. ‘Snow makes you do a lot of things you don’t want to.’

* * *

 

The fourth week of learning songs with Finn- all of them alternate between being happy in a relationship, missing the relationship or hating the girl dating whatever guy I have claimed as mine, without actually saying it- Effie pulls us out of the room, in yet again dangerously high heels.

‘There you are!’ she simpers, and I resist the urge to remind her that I am almost always in this room. ‘You two are going to miss it!’

‘Miss what?’ Finn asks, and I’m thankful for once that I am not the only one lost.

‘The showcase!’ Effie says, taking my hand and dragging me out of the room, at a faster pace than should be possible in her heels. She’s long since learnt that if she is not holding on to me, I have a habit of wandering off, and not showing up when I’m needed.

Finn follows behind me, and I am positive he is smirking at how I am being treated like a child; Effie leads us down to the foyer, and outside of Capitol Records there is an outdoor stage set up, with a crowd of screaming fans.

When I look back, Finn’s smirk is gone, and he looks sick. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

Annie is on the stage, in a pretty dress. She’s not at the piano, instead Mags is seated at the grand piano, while Annie is holding onto a microphone that is sort of retro looking, singing into it.

‘ _Comfortable as I am,_

_I need your reassurance_

_Comfortable as you are,_

_You count the days_

_But if I wanted silence I would whisper_

_If I wanted loneliness I'd choose to go_

_If I liked rejection I'd audition_

_And if I didn't love you, you would know_

_And why can't you just hold me?_

_And how come it's so hard?_

_And do you like to see me broken?_

_And why do I still care?_ ’

There’s a pause in the singing, where it is just the piano, and Annie looks off stage; her eyes widen, and she looks shocked, scared, like a rabbit trying to flee.

I think she misses a cue, because Mags repeats a part of the piano, and Annie sings, but she keeps glancing at Finn.

The look on Finn’s face is indescribable.

He waits until the end of the song, before he turns on his heel and leaves.

* * *

 

Jo knocks on doors, something I didn’t know was possible; but she doesn’t give you time to ask why she’s at your doorstep, she just grabs your wrist, giving you enough time to get your wallet and keys before she leads you to a nice car, and drives.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

‘Annie is going crazy,’ Jo answers, and I’m not sure how that answers anything, but as per usual she doesn’t explain. It’s infuriating.

Annie’s condo is very different from what I expected, it’s very large and spacious and there is little to no furniture, and there are several bottles of wine on the counter.

‘Fuck,’ Jo says, dropping her bag on the ground. ‘Neither of you are handling this well.’

Annie looks up from the ground, an open bottle of Pinot Noir by her feet, and a cup that is filled to the brim in her hand. ‘Why was he there?’

Jo sighs, and grabs a bottle of wine, and two glasses and motions for me to join Annie and her on the floor.

‘He works there, Crazy.’

Annie shakes her head, laughing bitterly. ‘He’s never been there before.’

‘Nu-uh, nope, you are not doing this bullshit, Annie,’ Jo says firmly. ‘I am with you on the whole keeping it a secret thing was bullshit, and lying about your relationship definitely caused damage to it. But I am not going to say that Finn never supported you. That is fucking bullshit and you know it.’

Annie glares at Jo, green eyes rimmed with red from crying and her cheeks rosy from the alcohol, Jo nonplussed stares back.

‘It’s not fair.’ Annie cries messily, ‘Everyone thinks I’m a monster because I broke up with him, and he’s unable to do his job. But no one ever thought that I was getting hurt seeing Finnick “dating”,’ she makes air quotes around the word, ‘all those glamorous people and we couldn’t even hold hands in public! I don’t know him anymore, and he doesn’t know me, because he’s on tour for half the year and the other half he’s in L.A. recording and we never see each other and I can’t-I can’t-‘

Annie begins hyperventilating into her wine glass, and Jo takes the glass away from her and rubs her back in soothing abstract patterns.

‘I know,’ Jo says calmly, ‘Baby, I know.’

‘It was fine when I was nineteen,’ Annie gasps out, and I wonder how long this has been building up, all these words and feelings that she’s never told anyone-except Jo.  ‘But I’m twenty-five and we’ve been together for seven years and he never ever once has acknowledged me publically.’

‘I love him, and if I stayed with him we’d never have a future.’ Annie hiccups.

* * *

 

I end up running into Haymitch and Jo the next morning in the foyer. I don’t say anything about the night before until we’re in the elevator, past the third floor.

‘Why did she break up with him?’ I ask.

Haymitch is the one who answers me, surprisingly. ‘Finn’s been working really hard for the past few years, and maybe she doesn’t know him anymore.’

I don’t really know how to answer that, but Jo and Haymitch get off at the seventh floor, and I’m left in my thoughts.

I almost miss Gale Hawthorne sitting in my room where Finn usually is. Finn is a morning person I’ve realized, chipper and upbeat and full of drive before eight in the morning and I’m not sure how he does it.

‘Where’s Finn?’ I stop shortly.

‘Gone.’

‘Where?’

Gale shrugs, looking at the sheet music with a bored expression. ‘Dunno. He left Capitol. Fuck, Odair really does suck at writing anything but lyrics.’

‘Why?’ I ask.

Gale scowls. ‘I don’t know. Odair is the king of secrets. He broke his contract and left.’

* * *

 

The fallout from Finn leaving Capitol for a Universal owned company is huge. Snow is furious, Jo is confused and I haven’t see Annie so I don’t know how she’s acting.

Effie is in a tizzy, more anxious than anything, afraid of me leaving Capitol as well I guess, and when Jo motions for me to go with her, I do so willinglyand not needing an explanation.

We’re flying to New York City, and Annie is quiet the entire flight.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out we’re going to New York City to see Finn Odair’s press release at Carnegie Hall.

I wonder what we’re going to see.

* * *

 

It’s packed, filled with fans, reporters, everyone. We barely get seats, in the back. Annie’s hands are white, and she’s in between both of us, gripping our hands like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

‘I can’t do this,’ Annie whispers, ‘I can’t. I need to-‘

‘Breathe, Crazy Baby,’ Jo says calmly, making sure Annie is sitting. ‘It’s just one press release. Finn likes a party, you know this.’

‘I shouldn’t be here-we broke up, we’re not-‘

‘Breathe.’

We’re waiting for what feels like hours, but according to the clock on my phone only ten minutes before Finn walks on stage, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with a guitar strapped to his back, and holding a microphone like it’s a bottle of beer.

He looks at ease, like being on stage is his second skin. But it’s very different from how I remember seeing him on stage back all those months ago.  He’s at ease, and charismatic, and yes there is sex appeal but it’s not in your face, it’s like an afterthought, like it’s something you have to notice. Finn Odair is a very attractive man.

‘Hey everyone,’ he says easily, and I wonder how they all do it, public speaking without getting sweaty palms and nervous. ‘It’s been awhile. I’m Finnick Odair, and I guess you all know that I left Capitol Records after a twelve year relationship earlier this week. I’m here to let you know I’ve signed a contract with Lost Highways Records, and I’m hoping to have an album of my music-my real music, nothing I’ve put out before- out next January.’

There are some rumblings, people are muttering and I think everyone is taken a back at this shift. I’m not a music expert but I am pretty sure he’s switching genres.

‘I know, I know,’ Finn grins. ‘It’s hard to believe right?’

There’s a general consensus.

‘Well, maybe this will make you change your mind.’ Finn moves the guitar from his back to his front. ‘So I wrote this song-it’s called _Stay_ , by the way- because I really simply fucked up. You see, there’s this one girl-this one beautiful, amazing, lovely perfect woman, who I have been in love with for oh…seven years now, and I’ve hurt her a lot, and I’ve kept her waiting.  So this might not make it up for her, but I just want her to know how much I love her.’

I look at Annie and I don’t think she’s breathing. I don’t think she’s breathing at all.

‘Jo-‘

She waves me away, not tearing her eyes off the stage. ‘Not now, Brainless. Finn’s about to grow some balls.’

‘Jo-‘

‘I said not now.’

‘Jo I don’t think Annie’s breathing-‘

Jo tears her eyes off the stage where Finn is tuning his guitar, getting the capeal right to look at Annie who is ghost white and wide eyed.

‘Oh sweetie.  Annie, Annie baby, you need to breathe, Crazy. You need to breathe,’ Jo murmurs, but I don’t think Annie hears anything because Finn begins to sing.

_‘I'd sell my soul just to see your face._

_And I'd break my bones just to heal your pain._

_In these times I need a saving grace, but time is running out and I'm starting to lose my faith._

_But if I told you I loved you, would it make you want to stay?_

_I'm sorry for the way I hurt you and making you walk away._

_I should have took the time to tell you_

_And if I wrote you a love song and sang it to you every day, would it ever be enough to make you wanna come back home and stay?_

_I can't go another day without you_

_Would it make you, make you, wanna stay?_

_Girl you gotta know I love you.’_

* * *

 

I walk the red carpet at the Grammys with Jo.  Annie had already walked the carpet with Finn.

In the eight months since Finn’s press release, they’ve begun to see each other again. Slowly though, Annie says it is baby steps. They can’t go back to what they had. I understand, particularly, because they seem to have a lot of issues to work through, and they have a huge scandal when Finn admitted that he had been in a relationship since he was twenty, and had in fact spent the past seven years lying to the whole world.

It was hard for everyone to swallow. It still is.

Jo’s explained it to me, and I still don’t understand it.

But you know what, they’re happy. That’s all I can say.

I’ve never been to the Grammys, but I’ve seen them on TV and it’s just a lot of sitting and wanting food.

Jo performs, and I clap as she amazes people with her new single _The Phoenix._ District 12 wins Song Of The Year, for _Fine By Me_ , and that’s all exciting and such, but what makes me happy is midway  the way the lights all go out, and the stage is lit by candles.

In the platform in the middle of the audience, there is a barstool where Finn, going as Finnick Odair now, sits in jeans and a white button top, with an acoustic guitar, and beside him on a baby grand piano, with one microphone between them, is Annie dressed in a white lace dress.

Finn starts picking out the melody, and his is the only voice, clear and emotional that you can hear in the room.

_‘I don't know you_

_But I want you_

_All the more for that’_

Annie begins to join in, on the piano and the two share a smile with a million meanings in between them, having a moment with the entire world watching as she harmonizes with him.

_‘Words fall through me_

_And always fool me_

_And I can't react_

_And games that never amount_

_To more than they're meant_

_Will play themselves out_

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time’_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sweet on You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949055) by [hakanaii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii)




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